


Requiem in D Minor

by LeoKitty



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2019-03-24 19:03:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13817490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeoKitty/pseuds/LeoKitty
Summary: You want to be a lion, but you're nothing more than a rat.





	Requiem in D Minor

"I fear I am writing a requiem for myself"

\- W.A. Mozart

* * *

They're waiting one night when you get home from James', standing in a ring around the house although they shouldn't know it's there. Normally you'd have seen them in time to disapparate or to transform into a rat and scurry away, but today you're distracted. There are wards up before you know it, and at least three jets of light plough into your chest sending you flying backwards. You're unconscious before you slam into the tarmac of the road.

When you wake up, there's just enough light to see the masks peering down at you. You've seen them in pictures, and from a distance, but never this close and never from this angle. The ground is hard and cold beneath you, beneath your throbbing skull. You remember the spells hitting you, remember soaring back into blackness, away from the wards which would have protected you if you'd only managed to get a couple of metres nearer home.

You're not there any more, that's obvious. But where are you? You suppose that doesn't really matter; you're in a room surrounded by Death Eaters, so it's not worth worrying about anything else. They have wands and you don't.

What do they want? Information, obviously, or they'd have killed you outside your house instead of bringing you here. You're a Gryffindor; you won't tell, whatever they do. You won't tell them anything, and they can't force you to, because you're a Gryffindor and you can cope with whatever they throw at you. You start to laugh, very quietly, because laughing is what Sirius always does when he should be afraid. You wish he was here now, with you, because when he's there it's impossible to give up. But do you really want him here, helpless, so he dies with you? He's not afraid of death, not of anything, but that doesn't mean he wants to die. He wouldn't be afraid, and you won't be either. You laugh to show them you're not afraid.

"Crucio." The word is quiet, seemingly innocent, so you're surprised at the pain which grips you now. Your throbbing skull is nothing, nothing compared to this. Nothing can compare to this, pain unlike anything you've ever experienced. You realise you're screaming, and try to stop; Gryffindors don't scream. You can't control it, though, can't even fight, can only float on the pain.

When it stops, it takes a moment for you to notice. You lie there, staring up at the ceiling; or rather in the direction of the ceiling - it's too dark to make out properly. Everything aches but your mind is empty; you just stare upwards, vaguely aware of the masks moving and the laughter coming from behind them.

You laugh too, because that's what Sirius does when he should be afraid. Is he afraid when he laughs? He never looks it, but then he's a proper Gryffindor. You're afraid now, as the numbness in your brain starts to fade and you realise that you're still alive and still in this room.

You know they haven't finished yet, that they'll keep going until they've got what they want or you're dead. Well, you'll end up dead either way, whether you tell or not. It'd be quicker if you told them what they wanted, but Gryffindors don't do that.

*

_At the end of seventh year, you sail away from Hogwarts across the lake, the four of you crammed into one boat like you had been on the day you arrived. Lily thought about joining you, but decided to stay with the other Gryffindor girls. As she says, she'll have plenty of time with James later and she wanted to sit with her friends in the same way that the four of us wanted to sail together. She and James will be married within a month, and she wants one last chance to be a schoolgirl before then._

_On the way, Sirius and James sat side by side and you sat beside Remus. This time you sit next to Sirius, head resting on his shoulder as you watch the twinkling lights of the castle fade from sight. And as suddenly as it appeared all those years ago when you were arriving, it disappears behind a cliff. You say a silent goodbye and sit up a little to look at Sirius. He's still staring back, although the castle isn't visible any more, and you see him blink with eyes watering. Sirius has never cried before, at least not that you know of, but this time a single salty drop seeps from the corner of his left eye. You wipe it away for him, and although he doesn't turn look at you, the arm around your shoulders pulls you closer._

*

The cruciatus curse breaks your memories, tearing into you. The Death Eaters laugh as you scream, laugh from behind their masks. They're going to kill you, whatever you do, so you might as well just give in. But Gryffindors don't give in. You have to keep fighting them until the end, just in case you get a chance to escape. They all have wands and you don't, and you're screaming under their curse, but Sirius taught you never to give up.

*

_You get a flat together, you and Sirius. For two years you live there, arguing occasionally but always making up again. You make sure Sirius keeps eating and force him to sleep occasionally, although he's always in a hurry to rush back out and carry on fighting. No doubt Lily's doing the same for James. But you always feel a pang when he goes out without you, charging off on some dangerous mission behind enemy lines. A pang because he's actually doing something for the war and you aren't, not really. And a pang because you know every day there's a risk he might not come back._

*

The curse stops, and you find yourself breathing hard. Your throat is hoarse from screaming, and as they ask you more questions you realise that it doesn't have to end like this. What's the point in screaming yourself to death? Maybe you can make a difference to this war.

"I have- information," you pant out, swallowing the disgust that rises at your own actions. You're not giving up; you're taking your one remaining chance to make a difference in this war. Maybe even end it. "Information for-" you force yourself to finish- "the Dark Lord."

They reply, but you don't really hear the words. You can't concentrate on anything outside of your head, outside of your throbbing skull and aching nerves and the voice that's screaming at you to stop. "The Dark Lord himself, no-one else." There. You've done it. Either they'll torture the information out of you or they'll take you to him. Leave you alone with him. It's always been your greatest fear, to come face to face with you-know-who himself, but now it's your only chance. If you can get close to him, get a wand- or even if you can't- maybe you can put an end to this war. And if you don't make it out, at least you'll be remembered as more than Sirius' housekeeper-

*

_Dumbledore makes you move both move, to different houses. The old one isn't safe, and it's too dangerous for you to keep living together. Twice the chance for one of you to be followed home, for your hiding place to be compromised._

_You still visit each other all the time; Sirius comes round your house for most meals, sleeps over half the time too. You're glad, because he's never been any good at feeding himself. You make sure you always have something ready, whatever time he turns up. The first few times, you make him take your bed and sleep on the couch downstairs. Then, by mutual agreement, you begin to climb in next to him. He wakes up in the middle of the night breathing hard, and you know he's been dreaming of the war. Isn't it enough that he has to fight when he's awake? It's with him even when he's asleep. You hold him tight and tell him that everything's OK, that he's safe here, that Remus and Lily and James and baby Harry are safe too; if they weren't, you'd have been told straight away. It's all you can do, hold him tight and talk to him softly until he drifts off again._

*

They fling you forward, onto the ground at the feet of the person you hoped never to meet. You don't look up, just stare at the ground. Did you make the right move? Most likely you're digging your own grave. It's too late to change your mind now. "He says he has information," says a Death Eater, no longer laughing but tense and afraid. Even the Death Eaters are afraid of their master! And you're a member of the Order of the Pheonix, the one group who challenge him; at least technically a member, even if you've never actually fought.

*

_You've never been one of the ones to go out with wand drawn into battle; you'd have done it if you'd had the chance, played your part in fighting, but Dumbledore always gave you the jobs away from the action. You know it's best that way; you only just scraped through your NEWTs, despite all the times Sirius sat up all night helping you. It doesn't make it easier to accept though, to know that everyone else is fighting, while you're back at headquarters making notes on the meetings and trying to make sense of the conflicting reports which come in every day. You don't even get to do much there; it's critical work, and complicated, and the most you really do it write down the notes that the others dictate to you. You deliver messages, too, to Sirius and James and a couple of others. Only Dumbledore knows where all of the hiding places are._

_You give them meeting dates and times, on the rare occasions that the whole Order get together. It's rare because if the Death Eaters found out they could wipe you all out in one go. Dumbledore gives the assignments himself, trusting no-one else - particularly not you. He's the one who tells Sirius when to go out, where to go, what to do. Most of the time the first you know of these assignments is when Sirius tells you the bare details afterwards, or you're checking mission reports to update the files. If he's not at your house or his, you don't know whether he's visiting someone else or out fighting._

*

"Information? How interesting. Leave us." Everything is in the same smooth tone, calm and threatening. The room empties in near silence, not a word of protest or agreement as there would be if Dumbledore asked the Order to leave like that.

You kneel there, mind whirring. You're alone with him, as you hoped, but you don't have a wand. You could leap at him suddenly, wrap your hands around his throat and hold on until he falls down dead. You'd enjoy it, revenge for all the things Sirius has gone through because of him. But he's not the most powerful Dark Wizard in history for no reason. You wouldn't even get close enough to touch him, and he'd torture you to death.

You need time, and a chance to get a wand. You need him to trust you, and you'll have to give him information. Tell him enough and maybe you can convince him that you've switched sides, that you want to serve him now. Get close to him, find an opportunity. At least get out of this place alive.

He says nothing, just waits. You have to tell him something, before he gets bored of waiting. But what? You have the Order's most precious secret, but you can't tell him that, can't give him James and Lily and baby Harry, can't betray Sirius' trust like that-

"My Lord-" you force the title out, know that you have to convince him you've switched sides- "the Order of the Pheonix will meet in two days' time at half past eleven." You're not stupid enough to try to lie. You give him the address too. The whole Order will be there, with Dumbledore, and there are measures in place in case of an attack. You'll escape before then, anyway, and warn them what you've- what's happened. You can turn it into a trap.

"Indeed?" He paces around you, bare feet on hard stone the only sound in the silence. You know he's watching you, don't dare to look up. "Of course you know what happens to those who lie to me." The words hang in the air, a statement and not a question.

"It is true, my lord, I promise-"

"Crucio." One word in that cold, high voice and the world is swallowed again in pain.

*

_Sirius visits as usual, coming through the door as exhausted as he always is. You run your eyes over him, as you always do, seeing the bags beneath his eyes and the slump of his shoulders. Nothing like the handsome young man of four years ago, when he was still at school with high expectations for the future. Win the war, then enjoy the rest of his life. We all thought that once we started helping the war would be over by Christmas. But it dragged on, and it's still dragging on with no sign of the end. He tramps upstairs to the bath first, then after half an hour reappears cleaner but otherwise as rough as before. You set a plate of food in front of him and he nods briefly in thanks, not even the energy to speak. You stand behind his chair and brush out his matted locks, drying them with a jet of hot air from your wand, so that his hair is sleek and bouncy again. It seems strange, out of place with the new Sirius._

_When he's finished eating you sit close together on the sofa and he tells you why he's come. The Potters want him to be their Secret Keeper, but he wants it to be you instead. As he says, everyone would expect it to be him. He doesn't add is that the work he's doing is too dangerous, that you're less exposed to danger. You agree, if just because you can't stand the idea of him being put under any more strain._

*

The curse ends and a long finger finds your chin, tipping your head upwards. You almost resist, but realise that you have to make him think that you want to serve him. You force yourself not to shut your eyes or turn your head but to look at his face as his eyes burn through you and a dagger slices into your brain.

*

_You agree to be the Potters' secret keeper, and for the first time in months Sirius kisses you properly. You kissed once or twice at school, and in the years later when you still lived together, but recently Sirius hasn't had the time or the energy. His mind's been on other things, on the war and all the things he's seen. You understood, did what you could to look after him. After the war you could spend time together properly, and you'd wait until then. You prayed every night that you'd both make it._

_The kiss is gentle, not like the passionate ones of the early war. Sirius used to be so full of life, but now he gives it all to the war. You wrap your arms behind his head, stroke his silky hair as your lips meet. You don't pull away, even when your lungs begin to burn, not wanting to pull away from him and leave him alone. Eventually he breaks it off, panting for air, and you rest your head against his chest. The muscles are still there, although everything else about him is shrinking. He wraps his arms tighter around you, holding you there, and neither of you move. There's no need to speak._

*

"Fascinating." You should have known better, should have let the Death Eaters kill you. You're nothing but a rat, a sneak who's betrayed his friends. You didn't mean to do it, you just wanted to take any chance you had. Maybe you do still have a chance, if you can convince him that you've moved on and that you have something he wants. Maybe it'll still be possible to get out and warn them.

"So, secret keeper..." You know what he wants, and you have a choice: tell him, or let him kill you. If he kills you, he still knows the time and location for the next Order meeting and he will make his move there. Any you won't have any chance to warn them. James will be at that meeting, so it won't make a difference whether you tell or not.

You give him the address, and he laughs. He takes your wrist in an iron grip, presses the tip of his wand to the soft flesh of your forearm, and you bite back a howl at the fire that burns in the new brand. Sirius could stand it; so can you.

"Try to hide that from your friends if you wish; you would have trouble explaining. I do not give the Dark Mark to just anyone, as you and they know. You know what happens to those who seek to betray me." The words hang in the air, a statement and not a question. This time he does not see the need to clarify his meaning. "You know which is the winning side."

He is gone almost before you know it. You transform into a rat, wondering why you did not think to do it before, cursing yourself for not thinking of it before. Even as a rat you can feel the brand on your forearm, a permanent mark of your stupidity. If you'd thought to transform, you could have gotten away before this happened.

You run from the room, though the maze of the building. You-know-who - the Dark Lord, you suppose you should call him now - won't waste time. You have to find help, quickly, to warn them. They'll probably kill you for what you did, but at least you go some way towards making up for what you did.

Who to go to? Normally, it would be Sirius, but- you can't face him, not now, not after you've betrayed him like this. How long since you kissed? How much has changed since then! Why can't you just wind time back?

*

_You apparate to the Potters' house together, hand in hand. Sirius' hair is rumpled, but that's nothing unusual. Lily meets you at the door, asking the pointless security questions. Then you go inside and they cast the spell that puts their lives in your hands. You always wanted to be trusted like that, but now you realise you didn't deserve it. You should have stuck to looking after Sirius whenever he came back from fighting._

_You leave together, too, saying goodbye to James and Lily and to the one-year-old baby who waves to "Unky Siwus and Unky Peter"._

*

It's not just James and Lily who'll end up dead because of what you've done, but baby Harry too. Without your wand, you can't even apparate. You scamper as fast as you can, then realising you can move faster as a human you find a quiet alley and transform. Fortunately, you-know-who has his headquarters on the edge of a town - although you were too stupid to look back briefly and make a mental image of the building. You won't even be able to tell the Order where it is. You'll know if- when- you're called, although you cringe already at the thought of the punishment you'll face when you run in panting and wandless because you can't apparate. You don't even think about ignoring the call; you-know-who will be able to find you, however well you hide.

You suddenly realise that you haven't even decided where you're going. To find someone in the Order, but who? And how will you get there? You're running around a muggle town, with no idea even which one.

*

_You accompany Sirius home and kiss him goodbye, properly for once not just a peck on the cheek. He invites you to stay over for the night, but you refuse. You don't want to impose on him, make him worry about making you comfortable. You regret the decision the moment he shuts the door - you're the one who'd be making sure he was comfortable - but you can't just tell him you've changed your mind. He says he'll be over tomorrow night, anyway, adding that he hopes a good long sleep will help him feel more like a human being. You disapparate to the road outside your house- and the Death Eaters meet you there._

*

"Pettigrew!" You spin round at the sound of your name. It's Sirius, but for the first time you're not pleased to see him. He never addresses you by your surname; he must know- something. How could he?

"Sirius!" You great him with an attempt at your usual excitement, trying to hide the fact that you just want to get away.

"James and Lily- how could you?" He's angry, but his voice catches with choked down sobs. You stare, horrified. You know what he means but you ask anyway-

"What?"

"Traitor!" He lunges for you, but you're bound to the spot by realisation. You're too late to warn anyone. The magic burst out of you, uncontrollable, ripping apart everything in its path. You turn and start to run, not knowing whether you've hurt Sirius or not. It's too late, you've made too many mistakes to turn back. You may as well just go back to Voldemort, because at least then you'll have a chance of living. Not much; you might as well have organised your own funeral

But you don't want to fight your old friends. The best thing to do would be to let Sirius kill you. No, you can't make him do that- you have to get away, then you can end it yourself. Or just disappear, so they all think you're dead...

You trip and fly forwards, throwing your hands out to halt your fall. You feel a sharp pain in your hand as it catches on the edge of a broken shop window, but you don't think about it but transform and run. You have to make sure it's true, then- warn the Order that the meeting is no longer safe! You swallow and creep back. You have to tell Sirius, even if he kills you the moment you've done it. The pain in your hand - paw - is still white hot, sharper than the ache of the Dark Mark. You glance down and freeze. You're missing a toe, sliced off on that glass. The bleeding's just about stopped, at least, and it's a clean cut.

You deserve it. You look up and see Sirius laughing, the same way as he always laughs when he should be afraid. A loud pop is followed by another, and another, as the Aurors arrive and drag Sirius away. You should come out, tell them that it was you, that he's innocent-

But you're no Gryffindor. You tried to be brave and only proved that you were a coward. If you'd accepted death, instead of looking for a way out - because that's all you were doing, really - this wouldn't be happening. The war would have carried on without you, the Order would win, and Sirius would move on. At least he might have remembered you fondly, rather than with hatred.

If he'd listened, if he'd taken a moment to hear your side of the story- he was too swallowed up thinking about James to consider you. How could you ever think you were the most important one in his life? James was Sirius' best friend right through school, undeniably- but you were more than Sirius' friend, or so you thought. But no, you were nothing, not really. Sirius put up with you, like they all did.

You turn and walk away, the lone rat crossing the ruined street and wandering on into the sunrise. You let your animal instincts guide you, out of the town. You don't really think, not yet. What are you going to do now? You'll decide later. Or you-know-who will decide for you. You're surprised he hasn't called you back yet. When he does, you might just ignore it. It would make everything so much easier.

Why try to fight him? You've accepted it now: you're a coward, a pathetic excuse for a Gryffindor. You just want to survive, and you'll do whatever it takes. Sirius won't look at you again, didn't care for you anyway; you just fooled yourself into thinking he did. He'll tell the Aurors at his trial what really happened, and then they'll hunt you down. You may as well just hand yourself in, confess to everything. Azkaban would probably be the safest place for you.

You don't realise until you look up where you are. Half a house, silhouetted against the setting sun, bare beams reaching into the sky. The roof's gone, the walls half-crumbled too. You can't deny it: you betrayed the Potters, and now they're dead. But when you-know-who kills people, he usually does it more cleanly than this. Something else has happened here.

You slip under the gate and snuffle around the garden, and suddenly you come across a wand. It must have been flung from the house by the force of the explosion. It's not James' or Lily's, so it must be the Dark Lord's. You transform briefly, averting your eyes from your mutilated hand, and pick it up. At least it's a wand. Then you transform back into a rat - an appropriate shape for you, because that's what you are. Vermin.

You find out later what happened: that somehow the killing curse rebounded from baby Harry and killed you-know-who, at least temporarily; you know perfectly well that a wizard like you-know-who wouldn't really just die like that. He'll be back, and by that time you'll have to have decided which side you're on, if any. Not that you have a choice. You've accepted it: you're a coward. You want to live, and that means going back to you-know-who. And going over completely this time. The Dark Lord was right: it would be impossible to explain what you've done, especially now that you'd caused the Potters' deaths.

Sirius is in Azkaban. There's no way you can visit him there, and you're glad because although you ache to see him you know how he would look at you. You don't want to see the disgust in his eyes. And he never really cared anyway, as he proved when he didn't even ask you why you'd done it. Didn't even give you a chance to explain. You looked after him for all those years, made sure he ate and slept and soothed him when he woke from one of his nightmares.

Is he still having nightmares now, in Azkaban? Worse than ever, no doubt. You pretend to yourself that you don't care, that you don't want to hold him and talk softly too him until he falls asleep again. He's probably laughing, like he always does when he should be afraid. Probably laughing and cursing you.

Well, you'll curse him back. He could have listened to you, given you a chance to explain, but he never really cared about you. You might as well be a Death Eater; maybe you can even sabotage them, not deliberately but just by being Peter Pettigrew. That's the only chance you have left of a life if the Dark Lord comes back.

He'll be angry, and so will his supporters, because it was your information which lead to his downfall. Ironic, that both groups hate you for the same thing. You'll just have to find some way to make up for it - if you're the first by his side, if you bring him something he wants...

You give a funny ratty laugh, like Sirius always does when he should be afraid. You're probably writing a requiem for yourself, but hopefully you won't need it for some time.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: The title of this story refers to Mozart's Requiem in D minor, which I was listening to whilst writing. The composer suffered from extremely poor health whilst writing it and did in fact die leaving it unfinished. It is often claimed that he did not know for whom it was commissioned, leading to his fears that it was to be played at his own funeral.
> 
>  
> 
> Originally posted on HPFF under penname Leonore, 2014.06.03 (publication date backdated here to fit)


End file.
